Quotes from James L. Swanson

John Kennedy's family was rich, and he had enjoyed all the privileges that money could buy — a fine Harvard education, world travel, material possessions, leisure, and his father's contacts.

At the supreme moment of victory they cheered their Father Abraham, the man who, after a shaky start in office, learned how to command armies, grew in vision and eloquence, brought down slavery, and who, just six weeks ago, had given the most graceful and emotionally stunning inaugural address in the history of the American presidency.

The best illustrated histories of the assassination are Twenty Days by Dorothy Meserve Kunhardt and Philip B. Kunhardt Jr., and Lincoln's Assassins: Their Trial and Execution by James L. Swanson and Daniel R. Weinberg. Twenty Days contains more than three hundred black-and-white photos of the people and places connected to the assassination and Lincoln's funeral.

War had tested the limits of John Kennedy's physical and mental endurance, and he passed that test with great courage and coolness in the face of danger. Later, when he was president, Kennedy displayed that coconut on his desk as a treasured souvenir of his escape from death.

Oswald waited by the window. Whenever his eyes searched Houston Street for the first signs of the motorcade, he was careful not to hold the rifle high in his hands. Someone on the ground might see him and warn the authorities.

But JFK would drive by during lunch hour, when the employees would vacate the upper floors and go down to eat or leave the building to watch as the president passed. By a little after noon, Oswald could expect to have the entire sixth floor to himself. But this advantage offered no guarantee of success.

The hour-long service confused John Jr. He fidgeted and asked, "Where's my daddy?" The sacred music, the religious incantations, and the somber setting proved too much for Jackie. She could no longer hold it in. She began to cry uncontrollably. Her sobbing body heaved and shook.

She thanked them for their letters, promised that they would be archived at the Kennedy Library, and said all the usual niceties one might expect a widow in her position to say. Then she caught viewers off guard with an emotional and revealing statement. In the middle of her remarks, she paused and said: "All his bright light gone from the world.

The embalmer opened the coffin to check on the body. Lincoln's face was turning darker by the day, which the embalmers tried to conceal by coating the skin with chalk-white potions.

The embalmer and undertaker opened Lincoln's coffin. He had been dead for eighteen days. Only chemicals and makeup had kept him presentable during the journey. At the beginning, at the White House funeral, Lincoln's face had looked almost natural. He had changed along the way. The face continued to darken, and more and more white face powder had to be applied. Lincoln no longer resembled a sleeping man. Now he looked like a ghastly, pale, waxlike statue.

On April 17 Jefferson Davis was still on his way to Charlotte. Seventy-two hours after Lincoln's assassination, he still had no idea that Lincoln had been murdered.

When the procession reached the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, soldiers carried the flag-draped coffin up the steps of the Capitol. The crowds watched in silence as the soldiers carried the coffin inside and laid it upon a platform. It was left under the dome with a guard of soldiers keeping watch over the dead president.

Both Davis and Lincoln loved books and reading. Both had children who died young. One of Davis's sons, Samuel, died when he was still a baby, and another, Joseph, died after an accident while Davis was the president of the Confederacy. Lincoln, too, lost one son, Eddie, at a very young age and another, Willie, his favorite, while he was president of the United States.

It is for Your Excellency to decide, should you agree with me in opinion, what is proper to be done. . . . I would recommend measures be taken for . . . the restoration of peace.

The Confederates accidentally set their own city afire when they burned supplies to keep them from Union hands. The flames spread out of control and reduced much of the capital to ruins.

My poor friends, you are free—free as air. You can cast off the name of slave and trample upon it. . . . Liberty is your birthright. . . . But you must try to deserve this priceless boon. Let the world see that you merit it, and are able to maintain it by your good works. Don't let your joy carry you into excesses. Learn the laws and obey them. . . . There, now, let me pass on; I have but little time to spare. I want to see the capital.